Silent Hill: The Maze
by Dreamer in Exile
Summary: An original Silent Hill story, centered around a young woman dealing with isolation in a small town near a the town of Silent Hill. Please, Professional criticism is encouraged, not ranting!
1. Chapter 1

Silent Hill and its canon characters are not mine. I am but a pupil at the masters feet

_You've seen it too, haven't you? A stretch of desert waste and below it the maze. I've been there…once…always…never. You come out and your never quite the sane you were before.—Yvonne_

"It's been two days since Eric left for Texas, but the hours pass like days. The apartment never made the sounds it does now and every little creak makes me jump. I've been going about things as usual. Work. Gym. Sleep. Every now and then I get online and check the news. The cable's been out since yesterday. Some guy up in the north east lost his wife and kid, shot himself. The police found the body in front of the TV. I can't help but think he's the lucky one, now he's with his wife and kid. But, I know it's wrong to think it. I've been taking the pills for weeks now but it doesn't seem to work, especially now that Eric's gone. All I can do is wait for him and hope the patterns and rhythms of life will get me there. On a weirder note I've been having these strange dreams, they seem to be almost linear in their consistency and I remind myself constantly that it's probably a side effect of the drug. Another annoyance to achieve this thing called normal. As if the ringing in my ears and the constant sensation of mumbled voices weren't enough. God! Eric's going to read this when he gets home and think I'm hearing voices. I'm not crazy just a little lonely." September 17th

"Heavy fog today, rained all morning and the clouds didn't dissipate. Skipped the gym went swimming instead. Slept almost all night after taking my dose. Woke up around three in the morning but hey 5p to 3a isn't so bad a rest. Don't know whether it was the dreams or the AC but I could've sworn I heard breathing down the hall. One week in and I'm already going the way of countless paranoid hermits. I think I'll head to the mall tomorrow to try to keep that at bay. A little excitement though, the neighbor across the hall had to be taken to the ER yesterday. She's a nice enough lady, I was a little worried. Guess I'll know what's up if they start packing up her stuff."October 2nd

"It's raining again. It's been three days straight. Took a long soak in the community Jacuzzi. Even that couldn't raise my spirits. Guess we're all just a little bit emo sometimes. Blah. I think I'll go to sleep early."October 9th

"Ms. Clarel is still in the hospital. I went to see her today, but I don't think she knew I was there. Doctors think it was a stroke. Whatever it was she's catatonic. Just stares at the walls and ceiling. If I ever get like that I want someone to slip something into my IV. Vegetable just isn't the way I want to go. I got a bird today. A little chickadee that flits around in its cage in the living room and chirrups at me. All the stuff that's going on I can't believe my good mood. It's like that little bird brought the sunshine in. that and Eric sent me a letter. His moms doing ok as she can be. The cancer seems to be letting her rest, as she's not feeling much pain. I gotta add cancer to the list along with vegetable."October 10th

"Power's been out all day! It's cooler outside then in, but nearly all the neighbors in our unit are gone. Must be the economy. All the same, I've got nothing to do but sit and stew about my lack of TV. And, no one to bitch to. So I guess I'll write about my dream to entertain myself. It's all very hazy in the dream. As though a blanket of fog is covering the ground as far as the eye can see. And under the fog is fine sand, sometimes its concrete, other times it's as though the sand is covering some immense grate as I can see the metal peeking out. I can never see the horizon though. And I keep waking up in front of a door. Just a free standing door. The kind that old time magicians used. And, I want to open it, I know that there's some grand mystery revealed behind it but I keep waking up. It's got this weird circular symbol on it. Like a sigil or a coat of arms. And around it is all this strange writing. It's probably best I keep waking up. With something a strange as that it might be a nightmare instead of just a weird dream."October 13th

"Almost had a real problem today. It started out so good too. There's been this dog in the complex. Kind of cute dobey mix, really friendly. All the kids play with it, and a couple of the old ladies feed it. Well, this morning, Ryan, that little towhead from unit 4, went up to the pup as usual. But, the dog wasn't his usual self. Kept shaking its head and walked funny. I thought about telling the kid to leave him alone and no sooner had I thought it than the dog lunged. I managed to get to the boy in time to save him, but it was only by the good timing of the landlord passing by that I myself wasn't mauled. He only hit the dog once with a two by four. And Julio's not a very strong man. But the head of it just split open. As macabre as it sounds no goop no brains, just split down the center clean in half. The kid had to go to the ER; animal control said it was probably rabies. The teeth grazed my arm so I'm going to head to the hospital tomorrow and see if I can get a vaccine."October 15th

"I can't get yesterday out of my head. Everywhere I go, the tinnitus sounds like its dying howl. The shot hurt like a bitch, and I've got another two rounds to go. I keep thinking that that's what it's like to go crazy, start out cute and cuddly and end up twitching and rabid. And, I suppose I feel a little sorry for the dog. After all, it wasn't his choice to get rabies. On the other hand I think the pills are really working finally. It sucks that I've got to pay 30 a month for them though. Another letter from Eric. His moms starting to drift more and more. I can tell he's really down. But, I'm so stupid I can't think what to say to bring him up. I mean his mom is dying what am I supposed to say. Sorry doesn't really comfort." October 20th

"I'm writing this down just to clear my head. I haven't had night terrors since I was a kid. But sure as hell had to have one tonight. I woke up sweating and panting. It's that damned dream. I know I'm going through some stuff and my subconscious is trying to work it all out but damn. 2 o clock in the morning? That dog was in it now, some half mummified skinless version of it, head split in two and all. And it chased me through the door this time. And just like some magicians trick me and monster mutt were in some deserted burnout of a town. All ash and soot and fog. Metal grates for floors. Real horror house. I just can't put into words how terrifying it was. And then the grates gave out beneath me and I was falling, into this glowing cruel abyss, monster mutts howls my only eulogy. Then awake. The power's out again. The landlord's been trying to figure it out; all of unit 2 has been experiencing it. It's hot as hell, the witching hour, and after that dream I am NOT going back to bed. Me and the Cap't are going to have a campout in the living room with Joe the chickadee."October 22nd

"Sunny today! Went to the beach! Nothing out of the ordinary." October 25th

"Finally the summer's over. The first cold front of fall hit today and it's a chilly 48 degrees. The doctors say that for a lot of people winter is the hardest. But, I feel revived now that it's not 90 plus outside. On a bad note Ryan had a reaction to the vaccine, messed with some sort of pre-existing condition. He's dead. I went over to comfort his mother but she can find no solace. I don't know what I'd do if I was in her shoes. Joe escaped today too. Had the door open to enjoy the air, somehow he got out. Just flew out the door. He's probably got the right idea. It's starting to get really weird here. Nearly half the residents have moved. All the others are pissy because of the electric. I'm starting to feel like I'm surrounded by destruction."October 29th

"I'm so done with these dreams. I woke up again tonight, this time from hearing sounds in the apartment. I swear I heard something grinding against the wall. It's just my imagination I know but its making me lose sleep. People at work are starting to notice my slacking. I keep waking up at the most important times too. I think if I could just finish the dream, discover what it's trying to tell me…maybe it will stop."October 30th

"Things are back to normal around here. It was hard not seeing that boy's happy face on Halloween but other than that it's good. Eric will be home in a week. His mother passed the other night and he's coming home. He said it was quiet and he hopes painless. I should be more understanding but I just can't wait till he gets back. I've been so lonely."November 1st

"I don't think I can make it a week. One more night of this nightmare and I'll go nuts. I've been reading this book on dream interpretation and on lucid dream states. Tomorrow I'm going to find out what my subconscious is trying to tell me. I've skipped three doses in order to take a sleeping pill with the hope I can remain asleep enough to see the dream through. It's frightening but it is just a dream isn't it."November 3rd

_He who stares into the abyss will find that the abyss stares back- Nietzsche_

A wasteland spread out before her. A vast nothingness that breathed and pulsed. The fog seemed so thick that she might choke upon it. There was no horizon no stars no moon no sun. But, the sky was a deep red. The color clouds take on just before a bad storm hits. Beneath her feet was sand, and beneath that was rusty grating. She walked forwards a little ways to discover that the sand stopped. The grating too. She kicked a little bit over the edge and listened for it to hit bottom. No sound returned except the breathing of the wasteland. To the right the same emptiness hung so the woman walked to the left. Mixed into the breathing now was the sound of gears. And beneath that more disturbing the sound of voices that were human yet not human. She knew this place had walked it many times before. Beside her a piece of grating had been broken. It seemed as though something had torn through it from underneath. A piece of it was bent just enough that with a little work she might pull it free.

It came free beneath her grip and she discovered that she now had a nice little weapon. Which was what she had wanted. She had done this once before and did not intend to run this time. She would see everything. She wanted to know, needed to know. It had become an obsession.

In the distance she could hear howling, high pitched and unnatural. Half scream, half growl. She waited for it. And sure enough the dog thing sprung out from the path to her right. It lunged for her but she dodged. Bringing the pole down on its back. When it came again she swung at it like a baseball, catching it square in what might have once been considered its jaw. The thing stumbled back, and then redoubled its efforts. It took three more such attacks for her to destroy the thing. And when she was done, she kicked it and pushed it over the ledge.

She stood there for a time panting and staring into the long reaching depths. She would have stood there mesmerized for a while longer. She felt eyes watching her. An ambiguous sort of weight on her back. When she turned there was a man watching her. He was hazy through the fog but she could tell that he was human. He watched her a minute more than turned and walked into the wasteland. The woman followed. Even if she ran she could not keep up so she kept the figure in sight and followed at a distance.

The wasteland path came to a dead end at a door. On every side there was a drop off, no grating no sand just blackness. The door itself was a normal sort of thing, wood surface, brass handle. But what was on it was not. A glowing red sigil had been painted. Etched? On the door. It was circular and intertwining, with strange almost alchemic symbols arranged around it. And around that was written a phrase. In the woman's dreams she had been unable to read it, but the words were clear here.

_Enter all ye forsaken, and leave all you know behind for this is the door to paradise. Beware to those who wander here unprepared, the executioner waits._

But Alize _was_ prepared, she had come here many times, and she knew it would not stop until she finished it. She put her hand on the door, feeling its warmth almost burning against her skin. She twisted the knob and pushed. Beyond the door was a hallway. It was tight and she hurried forward in discomfort to another door. This one was undecorated. A simple wooden door. Again she pushed it open. Within was a convenience store, not unlike the ones she had visited when her family had gone up to the New England countryside. There was no one inside and the store was dark save for the emergency lights which blinked and flickered of their own accord. She searched the place, both for life and for loot. The door had warned her to be prepared and if there were more of those dog things she was going to need energy, not to mention light. She pulled a can of redbull out of a cooler and cracked the top. As she drank it she picked up a flashlight, a first aid kit, and a book of matches that had been left on the counter. Written on the front were the words Waterside Motel. She also took a key that had been left on the cash register; beneath it was a blank receipt. Written in red ink or more likely from the discoloration blood, was a simple rather ambiguous phrase.

_The doctor can't help you. He can't help himself. Room 320_

Looking down at the counter she could see that a map had been pinned to the pressed wood. She pulled it free and looked down at it. There were two hospitals in this town which the map named Silent Hill. One across the bridge and one in the tourist district. Alize assumed that the note must be related to the closer of the two since this one had been circled in red. It was four blocks south and two blocks east. She pocketed the map and headed for the door.

Outside the world was gray. Ash fell from the sky and coated everything in a thin film of dust. The place was dead. Cars, bikes but no people. In the silence she could hear the soft scraping of feet. An inaudible moan that sounded as if it might be human… slightly. This place was a nightmare she told herself and it would throw all sorts of terrors at her. But it was only a dream. Or was it? Her heartbeat felt very real. The sweat on her brow as well. And the sounds echoed like real sounds did.

Renewing her resolve she forced herself to walk forward. She took the middle of the road; the edges brought her closer to the shuffling. In the far distance she heard a dog howl. But it mattered little because she had already found the hospital. Even though the town was empty the door was unlocked, and she pushed it open with no little hesitation. Within was that same generic hospital reception room. The same no matter what hospital or town. A row of seats lined the right wall. A desk blocked the nurses' station. A clipboard sat on the counter. Someone had written on it, the uneven scrawl of a child. _"Oh but dear, we're all mad here." _In the margins where people were to write their names were three entries: Hatter, Haire, and Hart.

The statement made her more than a little uneasy. The silence of the room was oppressive and though she wanted to laugh to relieve the tension she felt as though it would be unwise. Sitting next to the clipboard was a pile of guest maps and the warning: all guests must sign in before visiting their loved ones. Alize picked one up and then thinking herself quite the smartass signed below Hart: Alice.

There were 20 rooms on each floor, although the map indicated that five of the rooms on this floor were authorized personnel, and though the place was empty she was pretty sure that area would be locked. The second floor had twenty rooms plus a rec. room, but a side note indicated it was closed for remodeling. The third floor was marked in pale letters _Psych Ward. _But there was a problem the third floor had only 19 rooms. There was an elevator at the far end of the first wing, but with the power off she doubted it would work. She might be able to turn it on by throwing the circuit, but that would mean a journey into the basement and Alize had seen enough horror movies to know better. There were stairs to the right of the elevator lobby and left of the basement access. She could use those. For as frightened as she was, for as many creaks and groans and footsteps she heard, she encountered neither man nor monster. But the door to the third floor was locked. The same for the second as well. Those left a) find the key or b) go to the basement and throw the switch. Guess which one it was going to be.

There was a door behind the reception desk. Big white letters titled it the office. She climbed over the desk and examined the drawers. She found a pen, an extra phone cord and a magazine, none of which were useful to her. She stared at the door titled office and then decided to open it. The door opened easily to a small but well organized room, full of charts and books and, to Alize's delight, a rack of keys. She searched the room for anything which might prove useful, but the only thing of interest she found was an open case study.

_Patient suffers from what might be mild schizophrenia; however she shows no other signs except for the hallucinations. It is perhaps safer to say the girl has a hyper imagination. I have cautioned the parents about releasing her from custody. Her hallucinations may prove dangerous to her own safety. I find her stories most interesting, and she and I have decided to call this alternate state Wonderland, a decidingly less disturbing name than the Otherworld she spoke of. Her accounts range from the bizarre to the outright sadistic. And, though such thoughts may show a violent tendency I shy from that diagnostic. The girl is terrified of the place. Leading me to believe that this is where she isolates her fears in order to better manage them. When I have asked her to relate her trips to this place, she is able to provide intricate details to me, something most patients of such a nature can't do. I fear perhaps we will have to medicate her though, since she still insists that the place is real._

Written below that in slight darker ink:

_Patient in critical care. She tried to commit suicide last night. Three more weeks treatment._

She searched the file for a name but found nothing. There were a few personal effects: a charm bracelet, a pair of earrings, and a small butterfly knife. Alize pocketed them all, though she couldn't pinpoint to herself why. She also took the keys to the second floor, though she searched there was no third floor key.

The stairs were old, as though they had aged as the building remained the same. The flight between the first and second floor was littered with wrappers and crumpled paper. She turned the key in the lock and listened with anxiety as the latch released. She didn't know why she was so frightened. But she held the pole firmly as she pushed the door open slightly. The hallway was dusty, and the light from the windows only partly enlightened through it. The door to the elevator lobby was locked.

She made her way slowly down the hallway. Checking doors as she went. They all were locked. The furnishings in the place were old. Like the furniture she'd seen in her grandmother's house. Dulling florals, end tables in the style of the early forties. The paintings on the wall were all of local sights and from a few of them she guessed that the place had once been a decent tourist destination. One especially caught her attention. A framed newspaper article headlining: The Big Fire of 81. Next to that in a more elaborate frame another article praised local millionaire Frank Carson of nearby town Ashford for restoring the town's historic buildings and reopening the place in 1995. What had happened between then and now there was no paper to tell this.

Alize returned to checking doors, and was surprised when a handle actually turned. She checked her map before proceeding and found this door to lead to the girl's bathroom. She didn't have to use it at the moment but made note on her map that it was open. There were no patient rooms unlocked in this wing, and the huge double doors that separated the two wings were locked. She tried looking through the plexi-glass but it was fogged with age. She leaned against the door in frustration. That meant going down to the basement something she very strongly did not want to do.

It was this resolve she was trying to strengthen that was immediately shattered by the shuddering of the door on which she leaned. She, startled, jumped away from it, and examined it intently. Had she really felt it or was she imagining it? She hesitantly reached out to touch it and as her fingers brushed the wood the paint began to fall away. The wood became metal. A siren split the air. She darted for the bathroom and pressed the door closed behind her. The transformation continued. Even into the temporary sanctuary of the women's room. The glass bled and the counters rusted, the stalls crumbled away into rusted screens of interlocking iron, the linoleum of the bathroom peeled and warped.

Alize was terrified pressing against the door as if to meld into it. The transformation kindled inside her some old forgotten fear. Her heart was in her throat, and her breath came labored. She slowly began to realize she was not alone. Some _thing_ was scurrying and scratching at the vinyl of the far stall. She fumbled with the flashlight and pointed it that direction. What came out must have once been a nurse, for she still wore her uniform, the old timey dress ones. It wasn't a nurse anymore. The face was entirely gone, the legs backward. The skin charred and peeling. It muttered at her, part human moan part inhuman chitter. In its hands the flashlight caught the gleam of metal.

With one hand she reached to open the bathroom door, but it was now locked. She picked up her pole from where she had dropped it and held it one handed before her. It didn't stop the nurse creature, and the flashlight seemed to draw it faster. Alize set it down and turned it off, brandishing the pole before her like a sword. The nurse stopped as if confused and began to sniff the air, an amazing feat considering she had no nose. It relocated her and continued its approach albeit slower.

It lunged at her and Alize practically threw herself into the sinks. The scalpel was buried in the door. In the _metal_ door…As if attached to the blade the nurse struggled to free it, as though it was some part of its body. She took the moment to her advantage and began to beat mercilessly on the thing. Only when it lay still and no longer twitched did she stop hitting it. She was crying, hard and the tears mixed with the things blood that had splattered on her face.

"Where am I? Oh God, it's real! This place is real… not a dream… "

When she had quelled the heavier part of her fear, she picked up the flashlight and shined it again at the far stall. There was a hole there, big enough to crawl through and she assumed this is how the nurse had gotten in. she shuddered but still resolved herself to climb into it and make her way on hands and knees to the exit.

On the other side of the tunnel was a concrete hallway, no windows, no doors. It didn't take her long to realize she was no longer in the hospital. The flashlight trembled in her hands causing the beam to flicker strangely in the impenetrable darkness. The floor was uneven and damp. She pushed onwards, wanting out and knowing that now forward was the only way to that goal. A little further up the tunnel the path split one to the left one forward and to the right. She looked down both corridors straining to see through the pitch black with the flimsy flashlight. Then she listened. But, no sound returned to her ears. Utter silence. She decided to go right it ended a long ways up and she was forced to turn around, this time though there was sound. A harsh grinding, not unlike that of gears echoed down the tunnel through the walls.

The left path twisted more and had harder turns. She was forced to stop several times to peek out around sharp corners. The insistent grinding had succeeded in giving her a headache and her vision was beginning to lose range. The path tightened to shoulder width and ascended via a carved stone stairway. The grinding was getting quieter, further away. At the top of the stairway was a door. Again carved with the strange glowing sigil. It made her head hurt worse, and she stumbled against it in agony. The door swung open, depositing her on what appeared to be the east wing floor.

The hospital had returned to normal, and Alize began to wonder if she was going crazy. The double doors were still locked but she was now on the unexplored side. To her right the map informed her was the rec. room. Under construction the map read. She tried the door anyway. And its handle turned. Still frightened but growing slowly numb to this place she slowly entered the room. It had been under construction. Part of the floor had been torn up, exposing the wood beneath it. The walls were the dull color of unpainted concrete. Clear tarps covered fixtures that had to remain. A built in bench, an oversized cabinet. Before her propped against the far wall was a stack of pictures. A small group of children were playing a board game on the floor, while a smiling nurse looked down on them supervised. It awakened in her feelings of familiarity and she stared at it for a long time. Again she felt that weight against her back and turned to find a girl this time.

The girl was about seven, her straight back hair was messy, her eyes too big for her face. As startled as she was Alize relaxed a little and offered her name.

"You frightened me. I didn't know anyone was here. My name is Alize. What's yours? Are you a patient here?"

The girl studied her for a moment then picked up the picture from the stack and held it all the better to examine it.

Alize realizing that there was no possible way that this child was here as a patient, found herself disconcerted. She eased herself by insisting the child had wandered in from outside and that on this side of the river there must be a community.

"It's not you. You know. The picture isn't of you. This isn't the hospital you were in. it just wants you to think that. I was here though. I stayed here so long."

The girl approached her. And, feeling even more uncomfortable Alize took a step back.

"They gave me to it. They said I was the door to paradise. But I'm free of it now. It's you he wants. You came here when he called. Why did you do it Alize? Why didn't you just wake up?"

"Who? What wants me? What are you talking about?"

"The black haired, blue eyed man is his, or the other way around… I don't know. I never got this far in. I was a tool not an observer like you. I can't go into the maze; I can't unravel the whys only the hows. But you can't listen to him; he's with the red god, the one who is looking for you."

"Who, who are you talking about? What blue eyed man? And what is this red god? Who are you? What are you? And while we're at it what is this place?"

The girl shook her head as though all of these questions were obvious." My name is… was Alessa. I was Heather for a time before she freed me. Now I'm a memory, a hallucination. And this place. This is Silent Hill. If you're smart you'll wake up Alize. This is no wonderland." And with that the girl walked away fading into nothing.

Alize looked down at the photo. The girl was right this was not her. The surroundings were too old. When she had been in the hospital for pneumonia as a child, the decorations had been very contemporary. The photo had to have been taken in the late seventies early eighties. And, the girl was right about something else too. This place was wrong. She needed to wake up. That was assuming it was still a dream. It all felt so real, she had a hard time believing it. She turned to leave when something shiny caught her attention; half buried under tarps was a key. It had no markings whatsoever. Just a plain brass key. She pocketed it then left.

The hallway was oppressive with dust. And nearly all the doors were locked. She did gain entry to a few rooms, nothing of real interest in any of them. Drip stands old linens. One room was pretty gruesome. The drip stand looked new, and the IV bag had been ripped open. The linens were stained with old blood, and it smelled rank. The window had also been boarded up. When she reached the end of the hall there was another picture that caught her attention. This one she found really inappropriate. A burnt red human looking thing was destroying a town. In the background were what looked like people, tied up or perhaps impaled on poles. It definitely did not belong in a hospital. The plaque beneath it read:

_Tribal rendition of the mythological Red of the Silent Hill Historical Society_

_The Road to Paradise_

"More like hell if you ask me."

If that was what was after her then the girl was right, she did need to wake up. But, Alize was a skeptic. And, she definitely didn't believe in this Red God being. Besides it was a tribal rendition, pre-colonization, old myths held for a long time in isolated towns.

She reached for the handle on the last door. Locked. Pulling the key from her pocket, she looked down at it, then put it in the keyhole and turned it. The latch clicked and she pushed it open. This room was clean, contemporary in style. She stepped inside and pushed the door closed behind her. The bed was made, the windows closed. A plant, something like a hydrangea adorned the desk beneath the window. There was a drip stand, a TV, a table, a phone.

Alize went for the phone but she was rooted to the spot. She heard the voices first, through static.

_Yvonne. Yvonne you have a visitor….Miss Dawson is here to see you. _

_Mr. Ulrich will you be going in too…four more weeks maybe less…_

Then figures appeared her visual field grew grainy, distorted. A girl, lying on the bed, looked through her. Her red hair hung in knotted stands across her sunken, too pale face. She might have been pretty once but whatever disease that ravaged her had stripped it away. Another girl entered the room, this one a few years younger and with dark brown hair pulled back in a braid. In her arms were a bundle of chrysanthemums. The sick girl smiled.

_I'm so glad you came…no one comes to see me…school._

_Of course I came to see you…you're my best…when are you…back? Everyone is so mean… I… no one to…talk._

_I don't… back…ize…can you help me? Its…secret…_

The fabric of reality flickered, an uncomfortable flashing between the memory and the reality. Alize cradled her head, trying to fight back the dizziness.

The room was old, dusty. Everything else was the same. A calm settled over the area. As though time didn't exist here. A bouquet of wilted flowers sat on the linens. Alize crossed to the bed and sat down. A cloud of dust filled the room with sparkling motes. She pulled the bouquet into her lap and looked down at it. She had been here before. She had known it. How could she forget.

_Back when I was ten we lived in a little town up north. A girl. A friend from school. She was sick. And her dad lived in a place called Silent Hill. A resort town just out of Ashford. I used to go with my dad to a lighthouse there and fish. We'd stop at the convenience store every trip and pick up an ice cream bar. And, some people, these biker guys would call to him to have a drink. Some place called Neely's. And dad always smiled and promised them next time. He told me about them. His old friends. Because he had lived here once when he was a boy. But his family moved after a fire. The Big Fire. The drive home always scared me. The fog would roll over the road at dusk, and it was so thick… and I would start to drift into sleep before the radio would break into static, just at the end of the city limits. Yvonne, her name was Yvonne. I wonder what happened to her. Why is it that I can't remember?_

Alize set the flowers down, deciding that maybe she should try the phone. Only, there was no phone. Instead a backpack rested against the clouded glass of the window pane. The two zipper pulls were locked together with a combination lock. She pulled the butterfly knife out and slit a long line into the fabric. She reached inside. There was a book: _Colonies of the New England Coast_. Something was acting as a bookmark. She flipped it open. A key. And the page it marked was all about Silent Hill.

Although only a few records have been taught historically of forsaken colonies shortly after the discovery of our continent, one particular example is often glossed over, if it is mentioned at all. Shortly after beginning to colonize the New England coast, the English had to abandon the province that would become the town of Silent Hill. The natives of the area had been brutal forced out, and a few sources cite their anger as the cause for the colonies doom. In the months that followed plague and sickness ravaged the province. Many villagers died, and those that had not yet caught the sickness fled by way of boat, leaving the sick stranded with the Atlantic on one side, and the angry natives on the other. Tensions rose as crops failed and a cold winter set upon them. Most made crazy with the sickness began to hallucinate. They often would blame their misfortunes on the Red God, perhaps an ignorant assumption and corruption of the Red's God. Insinuating a deity of the local natives. A falsity since no native deity fits the description. It wasn't until later that this Red God would be considered a positive figure, when a particularly sickened butcher with the last name of Gillespie would tell the elders of a vision he'd received. Wherein he had conversed with the alleged god, who had told him he was a manifestation of the Christian God and that the people had sinned in their lack of giving oblation. If, Gillespie told them, they repented and gave sacrifice to the Red God their ill fate would be reversed and they would be led to paradise. This act of sacrifice was quite literal, and nearly all of the elders sacrificed one member of their family. The sacrifice was particularly gruesome. And direct sources that date back to the 1700's, have described the act. The sacrifice was tied upside down to a stake, hands crossed as if to receive blessing. Their throats were slit and a ditch was dug to catch the blood. From what sources say, the next few years were quite prosperous for the colony. About a decade later, however, the town was empty. No one knows what happened to the townsfolk, and when in the mid 1800's the area was built into Silent Hill, construction workers observed that even though a hundred plus years had passed, the buildings were in outstanding condition, their age told only by the thick layers of dust that covered the interiors. It was believed by some authorities in the late 70's that the cult had survived, through imitation by a marginal percent of the populace, and had been reincarnated as The Order. No actual proof has been found to verify the existence of such a group. Though, some residents have blamed the Fire of 1981 on their acts. Of interest is the irony of Gillespie's claim, though he claimed the figure to be a manifestation of the Christian God, the majority of the names stated in texts traced back to the colony are of demonic origin.

Alize set the book back down, on its cover was a library sticker: Silent Hill Historical Society. She looked down at the key in her hand. A little metal keychain was etched with the number 320. After reading the entry she wanted to escape the place more than ever, but the only way forward was to find room 320. She had better try the basement and see if she could get the power back on; maybe the elevator lobby on the third floor would be unlocked.

Outside the room there was eerie silence, her breathing seemed to echo down the hallway, and her pulse beat in her ears. The hall was darker too, and she shone the flashlight down the length of it. She stared for a moment into the black then went to swing the beam to the wall. As she did it seemed that a darker shadow crossed at the end of the hall right to left, and she brought the beam back. Nothing. Still silent. She made her way cautiously down the hall and peered around the corner. There a few feet away, she nearly screamed, was something that might have once been human. It had no arms, and was utterly naked, though sexless; the skin was so pale it was blotchy. It had no eyes, no nose. Only a mouth, rimmed with small sharp teeth that gapped in an O the size of a fist.

Alize stumbled back in terror, not expecting the thing to be so close. It let loose a guttural moan, and shuffled towards her. Its chest cavity heaved, and she could hear something bubbling and sizzling. She set down the flashlight and readied her weapon. But the thing got no closer. She stared at it debating whether she should swing first. She had little time to think about it. A gaseous miasma was hurled from its mouth and she doubled over coughing and tearing. In that singular moment not even spanning a full second, the creature was upon her, pinning her to the ground. Its teeth were now her real problem. Though the mouth had seemed the size of her fist a moment ago, it was now stretched so wide that very little of the "face" was visible. She held it back, pressing on the squishy, cold chest. Beneath it she could now tell there were arms, as though they had been bound beneath the flesh, like a straightjacket. She could hear more of the bubbling sizzling noise and was strikingly aware of just how deadly this had gotten. She pushed harder, surprised at how strong something so skinny could be, and how balanced it was considering as it had no arms. Pushing it as she was, she could feel the miasma as it rose up the creature's esophagus.

The firing of a gun split the air, and instead of acid spit, she was now covered in thick coagulated blood. She sat there panting, and in shock, staring at the open skull, until something or someone pushed the dead thing off her.

She sat up and it took her a while to look up at the source of her rescue. A man, stared down at her, little older than she, with hair like midnight and eyes that were the bluest she'd ever seen. Alize opened her mouth to say thank you but nothing came out.

He smiled a grim smile and nodded his head, recocked the gun and fired another shot into a nurse that had come from the now open double doors.

"How are you here? You're the first person I've seen. Everything else is… monstrous."

Alize thought about that for a time.

"I, I keep having these dreams. They led me here. I think I'm sleeping, but… the stench… the pain… how can you feel pain in a dream? How did you get here? There's just been you and the girl."

"What girl?"

"She says her name is Alessa."

A look of anger or was it frustration crossed his face.

"Do you know her?"

"A while ago after I woke up here she locked me in the basement."

Alize was cautious. But, the man had saved her and she was inclined to trust him after that.

"Do you live here?"

"I did once. It's been a while."

"You were in the basement. Does the power not work?"

He shook his head. "I threw the switch but I think the generator needs to be primed. I found a maintenance map and I know where it is but I can't get the door open. Maybe with an extra hand I can get it open. That is if your game. All the doors are locked and I can't find any of the keys to exits in the office when it's dark."

Alize nodded and got up. "Yeah it's better than going it alone too. How did you say you got here?"

"Woke up here. I don't know how, or why. We can take the stairs. I just want to get out of here."

"Ok." Alize followed him, a few other nurses lay dead in the hallway.

The basement was dark. The real kind of dark. Not like night when the stars shine even a little through the clouds, but an impenetrable darkness that not even the flashlight could break. Their footsteps echoed and the walls seemed to breathe, the stairs to moan. She watched the man's back.

"Did I miss your name?"

"The door is just up here. Can you shine the light on my map?"

Alize focused the flashlight on the aged piece of paper.

"This door. It pushes in but, I think the wood is swollen with moisture. If you push with me, we might be able to force it open."

Both put their shoulders to the door, and leaned hard, pushing with their legs. They shoved for a good long time before the door budged.

The generator was a big hulking thing. It took up the entire back half of the room. And, like her new travelling companion had guessed, it was completely dry. Luckily whoever had kept the hospital up in its heyday had been prepared for just such a thing. Alize lifted the gas can and poured its contents into the generator.

"Now to turn it on." He pushed a dull red button on the generators left side. The generator roared to life. The lights flickered and held.

Alize had little time to be happy for the renewal of her vision. Next to where she had been standing was a corpse. Its chest cavity had been ripped open, the remains of its intestines spilled on the floor. The skin was gone. The face twisted in agony. She screamed stumbling back, falling to the ground.

The man grabbed her, held one hand over her mouth. "Shhh. You don't know what's here. Don't scream." He held her close.

Alize didn't know whether it was to comfort her or prevent her from screaming again. She relaxed and nodded. As he released her she had a moment of fatigue and almost collapsed again.

"The lights are on let's get out of here." he replied taking a step towards the door. "What are you doing?"

Alize knelt by the body and examined it. Inside the ribcage was a piece of paper. _HUR 4900 657342 BL._ "what is this"

"A piece of bloody paper. How the hell can you reach into that guy like that?"

"Don't know. Just can. It's not so much that he's dead. Just the way in which he died. It looks like a library number."

"Well if we get out and you feel like looking around the old historical society has a library." He snorted derisively. "Isn't exactly a tourist destination anymore though."

"You said you lived here once. What was it like?"

"Weird. It's always been weird. Frustrating." He laughed. "Like hell really. Not this kind of hell though. Haven't you been here before?"

"Once. When I was a kid. We used to go to the lighthouse and fish."

"This place is fucked, you know. They keep trying to make it tourist-able. But tourists keep dying. That lake is full of dead bodies, a whole boatload of people, some kid from nearby Shephards Glen. Nevermind the fire. And the amusement park rides being faulty. This place is bad luck. People go crazy here too. Nutso." They walked upstairs. The place seemed back to normal. Except that now all the other doors were locked.

The man with black hair jiggled the knob of the main door. But it wouldn't give way. He cussed at it kicked it twice.

"Let's try the elevator. We can go up, take the other stairs back down into the lobby."

He looked at her incredulously. "You're not serious? Up to get down. If we have to I guess. You think the elevators are safe?"

"Is anything here safe?"

He shrugged.

The elevator bell was tinny, hollow. And the air now was empty and stale, haunted instead of hellish. It made her skin crawl. The elevator itself was old. The buttons worn. She pushed the button for two nothing. She pushed the button for three, nothing. Four nothing, five nothing, six… the elevator creaked upward, straining on the wires. There was only one problem. The map said that the hospital only had three floors. Alize looked back at her companion of circumstance. He leaned lackadaisically against the polished metal of the elevator walls, studying the pistol, unaware or without care to the strange situation of extra floors. Soothing and creepy music played over the speaker, elevator music. But, there was no stereo to power it. The elevator crept upward. A brassy hollow "ding" announced their arrival.

The two of them got out, the doors closed behind, and they could hear the elevator return to the ground floor. The call buttons went dark. Up here the corridors had no light. There were no windows and only the eerie light of the exit sign lit the way. There were no doors either. Taking a few steps forward Alize consulted the map. But, as she had suspected, there was nothing on the map for this area. She heard a grinding, scratching sound behind her, and the click of the gun as he loaded it.

She spun, expecting him to have the gun pointed at her. Instead it was pointed at some horrible abomination. It might have once been human, a perfect specimen, but it was twisted, and bleeding, and raw, a great knife in one hand, a spear in the other. Its head was covered in a torturous looking helmet device. A pyramid, that likely put immense weight on the neck.

Her strange companion screamed for her to run, fired five bullets into the body of the thing, before his torso was torn asunder by the blade. Alize stared, terrified. The creature looked up, turned its attention to her. They stared at each other awhile from across the abyss of blood, and then Alize fled; she heard the screech of the knife as he followed. The hallway wound and twisted, uninhibited by the confines of logical space, the walls bled and sirens split the air. She stumbled, dragged herself forward. The sound of her feet hitting the metal grating echoed in her ears. Up ahead the hallway ended. In big white letters were the numbers 320 on the door. She fumbled with the key in her pocket. It was right behind her, the executioner; she slammed the key into the keyhole and turned it.

Flinging the door closed behind her she fell to the floor, sobbing. There was blood in her pocket; she drew the knife out of it. Though she hadn't cut herself the thing was bloody and rusted. She examined it astonished. The bed in front of her was bloody too, a body lay prone on it, a woman, with blonde hair, brown eyes. She gasped as the executioner's spear ran through her. The woman was her.

Alize came to, gasping for air. The alarm was ringing. Had been ringing for a while. It was morning, and she was back in the apartment. Outside it was snowing. She sighed and fell back into the covers.

The apartment was dull. She stared up to the ceiling, it felt as though she was looking through a camera lens and there wasn't enough light. She got up and crossed to the window. Outside snow fell in slow motion on a white grey landscape that only vaguely resembled her home. She crossed again to where she kept her medicine. Advil. Migraine Aid. Sleep Aid. And one other… she grabbed the last and took two. Then she pulled her laptop out and began to search.

Within a couple minutes she found a hit: Silent Hill. Just a few historical tidbits were on the page, nothing as grand or in depth as what she'd seen in her dreams but some information matched. The fires for example were there. It was perhaps two hours away, maybe three with the snow. Tomorrow she was going up there. She sat down on the bed, staring at the backpack from her dreams. The backpack that she'd never seen outside of the dream.

The next day as she drove up the highway towards Silent Hill, it felt as though she was still in a dream. Beside her on the seat sat the old backpack. Why did it feel so familiar?

Her car stalled just outside the city limits, forcing her to take a long winding walk through the local park to actually get into the town. The park was dark, snowy ash fell against her skin, caught in her eyelashes, making the way seem cruelly eerie. Now and again she would stop, utterly still until a howl caught on the breeze ended. It was far away but it still sent shivers down her spine. She looked into her bag to see what she had. A flashlight, an mp3 player, a knife, a redbull, and a half used first aid kit. She pulled out the butterfly knife and held it in her right hand. She hung the little led flashlight on her neck and clipped the mp3 player inside her shirt. Then she continued down the path.

The town itself was empty and completely silent save for the crackling of the street lights as they flickered. She came upon Neely's first. A wave of emotion washed over her, followed by another this one depressed and disturbed. Her father's favorite bar was dead, the light pulsed above the sign. Open it read, but there were no cars, no bikes, nothing. She crossed to the bar and pushed open the door. As she suspected no one was there.

It was as though people had just up and left in the middle of things. A half played pool game sat unfinished on the table. A couple glasses rested on the bar, the liquer had evaporated away. The register was open but all that was inside was a blank receipt. On it were the words I 3 Alize. On the other side written in red ink were the words: There Is A Hole Here. she pocketed the piece of paper and continued to search.

She wasn't really sure why she was here. The only thing she knew was that the dreams wouldn't stop, not until she figured out what had happened here, what this place wanted with her. On a nearby table was a pamphlet. _Toluca Lake Boat Tours. 15 dollars an hour, glass bottom boat rides 20 dollars an hour. Fishing excursions 25 dollars an hour._

When she'd gone fishing with her father they'd always brought their own boat. He used to tell her not to trust the tourism people. "Never have the natives in mind" he used to say. He was always a bit paranoid, blamed it on his hometown. He used to tell her the place was haunted. She'd never believed until now. May as well see why her dad had never liked the touristy places. The brochure had a map of the whole town on it, at least everything in the south west part. What her dad had called the residential district.

Alize searched the bar one last time and grabbed the last coke out of the broken cooler, she also found a bar key and a protein shake that read :needs no refrigeration. As she approached the door the mp3 which although off had been switched to radio buzzed to life with loud static. It startled her and she fumbled to lower the volume. It took her a good while to do so but when she had, a new noise greeted her ears. A grinding shuffling scratching noise assaulted her ears and she dodged the attack only barely. The knife like appendage of the creature sailed over her head and hit the wall, tearing a good chunk of drywall away with it. The thing looked like a zombafied mix between shiva and a spider, with long blades where its forearms ought to be. It had no eyes, just deep black pits and no mouth. But the front two arms ended in pincers.

It swung again and she rolled under its belly, burying the knife in its chest, as it thrashed she ran for t he door and bolted down the street into the fog and ash.

She followed the easiest route only to find it ended in a drop off. Behind her she could hear the click click of the monster as it came after her. It paused a moment to stare at her then lunged. It must have mentally lead the line of target, because it knew where she was. She was under it now. It's body pinned her and she was just barely holding the pincers at bay. She sought in panic for an exit and found it, a small crevice between the raised ground before the drop off and an off kilter building. She kicked hard at the thing and managed to dislodge it. Then she scrambled for the crevice ignoring the pain in her leg from where the thing had cut her. It raged at the rocks and gravel, collapsing the entrance and forcing Alize to crawl onward on hands and knees.

On the other side the road went on a little to the left and a little to the right until it dropped of dramatically the only way to go was through the library.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Silent Hill is not mine, neither are it's characters_**

Alize dashed across the street at the end of the ally, and prayed to anything that might hear her that the door would be open. She flung it wide and closed it tight behind her. The place was deathly silent and she was beginning to think coming here wasn't the best idea. Then again coming to this accursed town hadn't been her soundest idea either.

This library was like many libraries: a moderate lobby, lined with plaques thanking the few sponsors, a vast fiction area, a curling staircase up to the second floor, an elevator. She crossed to the welcome desk. There was a dead computer, an equally dead phone, and a map of the place underneath a plastic placemat. The kind people put down for even signatures.

Alize pried the plastic up with her knife and slipped the map out from under it. With a very quiet chuckle she realized she was building up quite a collection of maps. When she found her way through this she might even frame them in one big collage. Or not. The library had three floors. This one, dedicated to fiction, the one above it for non-fiction, and the basement for town records. Town records… that sounded like the right place. Or the worst place. She'd be digging up all sorts of shit there.

There was no staircase down to the basement on her map, and the power was out save for the emergency exit signs. Certainly the staff had to have a way down there in case the power went out?

She searched the first floor, trying her best to ignore the rustling of papers that seemed to have no origin. Eventually she found a door labeled staff, and, of course, it was locked. She returned to the desk and rifled through a few stacks of papers. One particular piece caught her attention, it was a newspaper article.

_All the bodies were whole, the cause of death varied, but one thing remained constant between the cases, and all the bodies were etched with numbers, in ascending order. 01121, 02121, 03121, 04121, 05121, 06121, 07121, 08121, 09121, 10121 ... It seems to have been a ritual killing. Local Walter Sullivan has been arrested, tried and convicted for the crimes._

Below this was a picture of the man, blonde and deceivingly normal looking, probably would have been in Alize's dating pool at one time. That thought creeped her out no end. Crazy people were supposed to look crazy. The only thing off about this man was the cruel and fanatic gleam to his eyes, an ever so subtle sparkle that just barely came through in the picture. It made her feel watched. She spun, but nothing was there.

She was getting jumpy. How long had she been alone now? A month, longer? It seemed an eternity. This place made it worse. She longed for the man from the dream to be there with her, or the girl… Alessa. Maybe she'd look the name up when she got downstairs.

Beneath the stack of newspaper articles was a single rusty key.

It fit the lock but it took all her strength to turn it. The door swung open with an eerie squeak. Behind it was a long and deep stairwell. Alize turned her led flashlight on and descended. The door slammed shut behind her. With a shiver of hesitation she continued into the depths. The stairwell went down and down, further into darkness. There were voices now, muffled and subdued, accented by the occasionally scream. As she neared the bottom, a young boy's voice rose to guide her.

He was crying, calling for his mother, she could see him at the bottom before a door, limned with the same sigil as in her dreams.

"It's ok." She comforted. "Are you lost? I'll help you. Where is your mother? Where do you live?"

He looked up at her with his dark eyes. "Room 302. But, they said she was deaded." His voice changed. "Just like everyone else…Dead and gone. Gone to paradise. Come to paradise." Back to a child's voice. "Come with me Alize. Please don't leave me here alone." And then it was Yvonne's voice. "Alone with the darkness."

Sirens rang. Alize collapsed to her knees, cradling her head, screaming wordlessly, soundlessly. And the child wasn't a child anymore. It was a thing, a burnt and sulfurous smelling thing, with eyes like embers, and a cruel pointed knife. And it was stabbing at her leg, stabbing and stabbing. Alize passed out.

_**Going to be awhile till I get more up, busy work week. Stay tuned next week for the next chapter in Silent Hill: The Maze (creepy voice activated lol) X)**_


End file.
